


Double Trouble (That's What My Friends All Call Me)

by gollumgollum



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Lookalikes, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3979555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gollumgollum/pseuds/gollumgollum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he watches, Mark says something that makes Phil throw his head back and laugh, loose and easy. That in turn makes Mark smile, a familiar expression of quiet pleasure at his success. There's a desire starting to grow at the base of Bozie's skull, to find the places where Phil and this guy overlap, find the edges of where they differ. It's strange, maybe a little disconcerting, but Bozie finds that he doesn't care.</p>
<p>He turns back to the bartender and orders a round of shots, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, a guy who looks like Phil Kessel walks into a bar...full of Leafs. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Trouble (That's What My Friends All Call Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auctorial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auctorial/gifts).



> Content note: There are decisions made under the influence here. No one's blackout drunk, but alcohol is definitely used as a social lubricant. Consent is freely given by all parties, but they aren't sober. If that isn't your thing, please cease and desist, no hard feelings! 
> 
> Title from Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Double Trouble."

"Holy shit," someone says. Loops, maybe--Tyler's not paying attention, more interested in the nachos that have appeared on the table in front of him than in anything that anyone's saying--until someone nudges his arm and spills his beer a little. "Dude," Tyler says, annoyed, but no one's paying him any attention either.

"That's really fucking weird," Naz says, staring at the bar. They're all staring, and Tyler follows their gaze, trying to figure out what they're looking at.

"When did Phil change his shirt?" he says, frowning, still not quite sure what everyone else is looking at; Phil's standing at the bar, talking to some dude, looking somehow less awkward than usual. For one, he's actually talking to a stranger, and not in that impatient 'how do I get out of this' sort of way. For another, he's leaning against the bar on one elbow, far too casually for it to be anything other than a pose. It's... okay, so it's kind of weird, but not that--

"What?" Phil asks from behind them, and that's when Tyler realizes.

"Holy shit," he echoes, looking between Phil--real Phil, he can tell that at a glance now that he knows there are two of them--and fake Phil over at the bar. "HOLY SHIT," he says again, distantly aware that they're all kind of staring at real Phil now.

" _What?_ " Phil asks, exasperated.

"Fucking weird," Naz says again, and for a second Tyler thinks Phil's going to get pissy, so he jerks a thumb over his shoulder back at the bar.

"Look over there," he says. "Just--look."

Phil looks.

Phil's expression goes from annoyed to confused-annoyed to confused, before he flips back to annoyed. "What, that guy?"

"That guy who looks _exactly like you_ , you mean?" Loops asks dubiously.

Phil rolls his shoulders in that way he has, where he thinks he can somehow physically roll whatever it is he doesn't agree with away from him. "I mean, not _exactly_ \--"

"No, dude," Loops cuts him off, "it's pretty fucking freaky."

He's not wrong. It's _very_ fucking freaky, Tyler thinks, looking between Phil and not-Phil and back again. Not-Phil is basically Phil with more game, at least at a distance. Phil shrugs again, gives the dude one more once over, then shoves Tyler over. "Where's my fucking beer?"

Tyler pushes the bottle over, making room for Phil in the booth. He's a little sad; he's curious if not-Phil sounds like Phil at all, if the doppelganger has the same high nasally voice that Phil does, but he's trapped in the booth now by the real Phil, probably by design. But Phil clearly doesn't want to deal with it, so Tyler changes the subject and conversation moves on. Not-Phil moves on, too, or at least disappears as the bar gets more crowded; idly, Tyler wonders if the dude's local, how he manages to survive living in Toronto if he looks that much like Phil fucking Kessel. He's a little surprised that they've never heard of any incidents where Phil tries to tell a reporter that no, he's not actually Phil Kessel, and then he wonders if maybe the dude _doesn't_ tell people he's not Phil, and instead answers questions and signs autographs and watches their games so that he knows what to say when someone asks him about Carlyle.

But, y'know, Bozie is the solidest of bros, so he keeps the conversation moving in between demolishing the nachos with Phil, and after a while he's basically filed not-Phil away as a weird, kind-of-funny-in-retrospect story.

Until he runs into the dude in the bathroom, because of course he does.

"Hey," not-Phil says after an utterly mortifying five seconds of Tyler just, well, _staring_ at him, because he's two beers past forgetting that this dude was here. Is here. Is watching him curiously, because he's now addressed Tyler directly and he's still just standing there frozen.

Tyler blinks, finally. "Um. Hi." He nods at the urinal. "I gotta."

Not-Phil steps aside. "Of course."

The dude takes his time washing his hands, which means that he's probably waiting to talk to Tyler, but hey, he's at least not doing it while Tyler takes a piss, so that's something. He waits till Tyler tucks himself away and zips up before he says anything, stepping back from the sink to let him in while he dries his hands with a paper towel. "You're Tyler Bozak, yeah?"

"Yeah," Tyler says, eyeing the exit. The dude isn't standing in the way of it, at least.

"So that's definitely Phil Kessel you were sitting with, right?"

Tyler nods, and now that he's thinking about it, the dude does sound remarkably like Phil. Maybe Phil should hire him to impersonate him at the stupid PR stuff that he hates. Although most of that is the locker room interviews; Phil actually kind of digs a lot of the charity stuff, especially when there are kids involved.

The guy looks a little shy for just a second. "Do you think I could meet him?"

...How is this even his life. "Sure, I guess," Tyler says, drying his hands. "But just for a minute, okay?" He's not sure how Phil's going to react to this.

"Sure, of course," not-Phil replies, then holds out a hand. "Hey, I'm Mark, by the way."

"Tyler," Bozie says, even though the dude already knows that twice over.

He's having second thoughts--well, okay, he's been having second thoughts since before the dude asked to meet Phil, but the closer they get to the table, the more he's afraid that Phil's gonna be pissed off at him. Still, it's not like he's got many options, short of turning and running out of the bar. The good news is that there's no one left at the table when they get back but Phil, frowning down at his phone; Tyler doesn't know if everyone else is dancing or just took off, but he's not going to complain about the lack of witnesses. Instead he stops at the table and jerks a thumb over his shoulder at not-Phil--Mark, rather--and says dryly, "He followed me home, can we keep him?"

Phil blinks up at them, but then Mark steps around from behind him. "Hey, man, I won't bug you long. I just wanted to say hi. I'm Mark." He holds out his hand to shake, which Phil does, looking over Mark's shoulder at Bozie. Tyler shrugs and mouths 'he seems harmless.' Mark doesn't seem to notice, forging on. "I don't watch a lot of hockey, but a lot of people tell me we look a lot alike, so when I saw you here, I just figured, might as well introduce myself."

"Yeah, I get it," Phil says. "You from around here?"

"Nope, just moved here about six weeks ago, actually," Mark admits. "I'm from Ottawa." 

"You get hassled at the grocery store yet?" Phil asks.

Mark laughs. "Not yet, although some kid did ask me for your autograph the other day."

"Hey dudes," Loops says, sliding back into the booth opposite Phil with a drink in his hand. "You making friends?"

Phil nods towards Mark. "Loops, this is Mark. People say he looks like me."

Loops, bless him, tilts his head and takes a minute to look the two of them over. "I can see it," he says after a minute. "Same nose."

Tyler rolls his eyes as Phil and Mark laugh. "I'm gonna get another drink," he says. "Anybody else?" Phil holds up his empty. Loops has a new bottle. Phil kind of looks like he wants to keep talking, so Tyler looks at Mark. "You want something?"

Mark blinks, but then nods. "Sure, man. I'll take a beer."

Tyler looks back at the table while he's waiting for the bartender; Naz is back now, and Phil's introducing Mark to him. Mark really does look a lot like Phil; they don't quite have the same mannerisms, but they make some similar facial expressions, and they both laugh the same way. Like, Blake and Phil look pretty similar, but like they're brothers; Mark and Phil look like they're _twins._ It's...

Well. Tyler's attraction to Phil has always been different than his attraction to anyone else; it snuck up on him after he moved in, when he and Phil started living in each other's pockets. By the time he leaned in and kissed Phil against the pool table, it felt like the next logical step more than any sort of grand gesture. He likes Phil's body, sure, but he honestly doesn't give it much objective thought--it's tangled up in all of the things he likes about Phil, from his self-deprecating sense of humor to the way he doesn't demand much of anyone around him off the ice, the way everything's easy and effortless.

As he watches, Mark says something that makes Phil throw his head back and laugh, loose and easy. That in turn makes Mark smile, a familiar expression of quiet pleasure at his success. There's a desire starting to grow at the base of Tyler's skull, to find the places where Phil and this guy overlap, find the edges of where they differ. It's strange, maybe a little disconcerting, but Tyler finds that he doesn't care.

He turns back to the bartender and orders a round of shots, too.

"So," Phil says, leaning back in the booth a couple of hours later, warm and solid where he's pressed up against Tyler's side. He doesn't look at Tyler, but Tyler knows he's paying attention to him, can feel it even if Phil's got his eyes on Mark. They are all drunk, occupying that beautiful place where everything is loose and easy. "What are you up to after this?"

Mark glances between them, his mouth quirking up into a half-smile. "What do you guys want to do?"

That was the right answer. Phil knocks back the rest of his drink, then stands, offering a hand to Tyler to pull him out of the booth. Tyler rights himself next to Phil--probably a little too close considering they're still in public, but whatever--and looks down at Mark. "We're going home," he decides. "You coming?"

It turns out it's just that easy. This is something he and Phil have talked about, in the abstract, before; now that the opportunity has presented itself, Tyler finds that he's happy to go with it, curious to see where it will lead. Phil grins at him as they stuff themselves in the back of a cab, Mark on one side and Phil in the middle, and Tyler finds himself grinning back. Phil's hand finds his and squeezes. Tyler leans his head against the cool window of the taxi, smiling and holding Phil's hand, half-listening to Phil and Mark talk.

When they get up to the apartment, Phil catches Tyler by the belt loops and reels him in for a long, hard kiss. It's all Tyler can do to keep up, clinging to Phil and trying not to gasp against his mouth. It's almost good enough to make him forget Mark, until Phil pulls back and says "Here," and gently spins Tyler around.

Mark takes a step forward, crowding into Tyler's space, one hand coming up to cup his face. He moves slowly, deliberately, telegraphing everything before he does it--leaning in, pressing his lips gently against Tyler's mouth, then licking along his lower lip as his hand holds Tyler's face still. Phil's still pressed up against his back, hands on his hips, and Tyler can feel the warm wash of breath as Phil murmurs "Yeah, buddy," against his ear. Mark's other hand, the one not holding his face, reaches out to catch Phil by the hip and pull him closer. Tyler's pinned between them, Phil warm against his shoulders and ass, Mark slipping one leg between Tyler's legs, and Tyler's hands roaming and unsure where to land. Finally he gets one hand tucked in Mark's back pocket, one tangled in the hair at the back of Phil's head, and it's all he can do to hold on as Mark kisses him breathless and Phil works at that spot behind his ear that drives him crazy.

"Bed?" one of them--Mark, Tyler thinks--says eventually, and Tyler sags back against Phil. He's a little overwhelmed, a lot overstimulated, having a hard time keeping track of who's touching him where. Phil nudges him down the hall and Tyler goes, stumbling a little, trusting them to follow. He sprawls on the bed once he gets there. The sheets are cool against his face and he takes a minute to breathe before a hand slides gently up his calf--Phil, he knows without looking, the same way Stella doesn't jump when Phil pets her while she's dozing.

"Hey, buddy," Phil says, leaning on the mattress next to him. "Your call. What do you want?"

Tyler rolls over, still needing a minute or so to figure that out. "You two," he says, hoarse like they haven't just gotten started. "You should get naked. And maybe kiss."

Phil grins at that, dropping a kiss to Tyler's lips before he pushes up from the bed. Mark's been leaning in the doorway, but he steps forward at Phil's look, his hands sliding around Phil's waist to lift up the hem of his shirt. Phil returns the favor, tugging Mark's shirt out of the waistband of his jeans and up and over his head.

Tyler pushes himself up to lean against the headboard, one hand fiddling idly with the button of his pants. Mark's a little bigger than Phil, a little thicker around the middle, the hair on his torso just a shade or two darker than Phil's. Phil leans in and kisses him once they've got their shirts off, and that's a sight--Phil and his accidental twin, lip to lip and curling around each other. Tyler gets his hand into his own pants, wrapping his fingers around his dick, slow and lazy as he watches them kiss. "Get his pants, Phil," he says after a minute, licking his lips.

Mark makes this soft noise when Phil slides his hands back up, kicking his pants free of his ankles. Tyler can't help but echo him, a moan slipping free from his lips as Phil sucks a bruise onto Mark's collarbone. Phil glances at him, eyes full of mischief and something else that Tyler can't quite plface as Mark pushes Phil's pants and boxers off. "You're still dressed, buddy," Phil says, letting his head fall back as Mark licks and bites his way back up his torso.

The lapse of attention doesn't last long, Phil blinking at Tyler as he steers Mark towards the bed. A second later, they're on either side of him, Mark unbuttoning Tyler's shirt as Phil kisses him. This time, Tyler feels ready for the attention, ready to surrender to whatever comes. "Your turn," he says to Phil. "Whadda you want?"

Phil helps him lift up while Mark divests him of his shirt. "I want to watch Mark fuck you while you fuck me," Phil murmurs, licking up Tyler's jaw and nipping at the sensitive skin under his ear. "What do you think about that?"

Tyler's not sure if he's asking him or Mark, but he nods anyway, shivering a little. There's something wet and warm stinging against his collarbone--Mark, he realizes, sucking a bruise into the skin there as he works Tyler's pants free. He turns his head and catches Mark in a kiss, wriggling his hips to get his pants off as he tangles a hand in Mark's hair. Distantly, he's aware of Phil getting up from the bed.

"Here," Phil says, big hands on Tyler's hips, turning him over.

He whimpers a little when the motion moves him away from Mark's warmth, but any complaint he might have had is arrested as he feels the cool drip of lube on his skin. "Yeah," he murmurs to no one, arching up into the touch as fingers brush over his ass, chasing the wetness. Phil leans over him, one hand braced on the mattress next to Bozie's shoulder as he eases a finger in. "Fuck," Tyler breathes; they've done this before, a hundred times, but this is always the part that takes him a minute to get over himself. He's suddenly glad Phil's the one doing this, opening him up.

"You do me," Phil says above him, and he hears the cap on the lube open, followed by a hiss as the finger inside of him pauses for a moment before resuming its steady push in. That's Phil being opened up by Mark, and the thought--Mark inside of Phil inside of him, and how in a minute it'll be Mark inside of him inside of Phil--goes straight to his dick.

"Jesus," he moans, hips pressing against the mattress before he can help himself. "Give me more."

He can't see much from this angle, just Phil's hand and wrist, the muscles in his forearm tense. Phil bends down and kisses the back of his shoulder, his hair brushing against Tyler's cheek. "You look so fucking good like this," Phil says against his skin, fingers stuttering a little where they're working Tyler open. "Can't wait till I get to watch you get fucked while you're inside of me. Can't wait to feel you getting fucked into me." He drops his forehead to Tyler's shoulder then, sucking in a deep breath. "Fuck," Phil says, ragged and needy, slipping another finger in. Tyler arches his spine, simultaneously wanting to push back and pull away from the stretch. He's pretty sure Mark's saying something, but he has no idea what.

What could be a few seconds or an eternity later, Phil slips his hands free and rolls Tyler over, pressing a pair of condoms into his hand. "Get Mark ready," he suggests, helping him to sit up.

Mark's got a flush creeping up his chest, his dick looking about as hard as Bozie's feels right now. He's uncut, unlike Phil, the tip of his dick peeking out of his foreskin. Tyler runs a hand up and down his shaft, wanting to feel it for himself. It's a little longer than Phil's, maybe not quite as thick, although his foreskin makes it harder to tell. He's missing the scar on the underside of his belly, and he's got both of his balls. Tyler grins up at him suddenly, dropping his head and mouthing at Mark's balls just because he can, feeling them heavy beneath the stretchy skin sliding under his lips. He gets the condom open, then comes up long enough to roll it down over Mark's dick with his mouth, enormously satisfied at the shudder he wrings out of Mark as he reaches the base, Mark heavy against his tongue.

Tyler rips open the other condom and rolls it down over his own dick with his hand before coming back up and off of Mark's dick with a _pop_. He leans back, jacking himself slowly, letting his head roll to one side so he can look own at Phil stretched across the bed next to him. "You ready for this?" he teases, grinning when he realizes that Phil's watching his hand moving up and down on his cock.

Phil drags his eyes up Tyler's body, clearly taking his time. "Yeah," he says, soft and sure. "Yeah, buddy, I think I can handle you."

Tyler grins and rolls, ending up between Phil's legs. He kisses him, long and deep, then slips his hands beneath Phil's knees. "Let's go, then."

It takes a couple of minutes and a lot of trial and error, but then Tyler's balls deep in Phil, forcing a slow, deep breath out as Mark presses into him. Through it all, Phil's running his hands up and down Tyler's ribs, whispering filthy things into his ear. "Jesus, fuck," Tyler grits out as Mark slides home, and for a second, no one moves. Tyler takes a breath, lets it out. "Okay," he says finally, overwhelmed again, stuck between wanting to move and wanting Mark to move.

"Bozie," Phil groans, "Boze, you gotta--"

"Yeah," Tyler says, starting to pull out. The motion pushes Mark in deeper, though, and he stops short. "Mark--"

"I've gotcha," Mark says, his fingers tightening where they're wrapped around Tyler's hips. Tyler lets him ease them both back until he's pulled almost all of the way out of Phil, then he can't help but push back in. Mark doesn't follow, though, and the dual sensation--thrusting into Phil's tight heat as Mark slides out of him--takes Tyler by surprise. "Yeah," Mark says from behind him, sounding almost as dazed as Tyler feels, "yeah, Tyler, just like that, yeah."

And Tyler thought he'd be trapped, maybe a little helpless, but he's realizing now that he's going to be the one to set the pace here. He wonders how he looks to Phil, his hair falling into his eyes, Mark over his shoulder looking just like Phil fucking into him. That thought makes him move a little faster, makes his hips snap forward, and Mark answers him in kind when he pulls back.

From there, it's a little like riding a roller coaster--there's nothing to do but hang on as he fills and is filled, biting down onto Phil's clavicle as Phil and Mark kiss over his shoulder. He's got the fingers of one hand laced with Phil's, the other holding him up, and Phil's other hand is tangled in his hair pulling just so. He's pretty sure he's going to have bruises on his hips where Mark's fingers are digging in. Tyler can't bring himself to care; he's lost all semblance of higher thought. All he knows is that he has to hold on, hold out as long as he can.

Mark shifts behind him, reaching for Tyler's free hand and pulling it off the bed, holding him up with an arm wrapped across his chest. He brings their hands to Phil's dick, waits for Tyler to wrap his fingers around it, then shoves him forward with a hand between his shoulder blades. From here it's all Tyler can do to hang on, clinging to Phil with one hand as Mark pounds into him and Phil arches up into his hand where it's caught between their bellies. Mark's nailing his prostate now, over and over until Tyler feels his knees about to give. "I'm gonna--" he gasps out, hand tightening in Phil's.

"Come, Bozie," Phil growls in his ear, strained like he's on the edge himself. "Come for me, fill me up--"

Tyler buries his face against Phil's chest and shouts, toes curling, his orgasm punched out of him. Mark fucks him through it, and Phil's still thrusting up into his hand, and all Tyler can do is ride out the aftershocks. It's not long before Mark stiffens up against him, biting into the meat of Tyler's shoulder with a soft sob.

Tyler waits until he's done shaking before pushing back against him until Mark slips free, then he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed and drags Phil down by the legs. He sucks him down in one quick, desperate motion, knowing Phil's close. Tyler closes his eyes, letting Phil fuck into his mouth, one hand slipping down to press fingers into Phil where he's slick and warm and open. _I did that,_ Bozie thinks, feeling almost dizzy; he's never fingerfucked Phil after fucking him, and it's totally different from easing his fingers into Phil when he's tight. Phil's hand finds its way into Tyler's hair again, and Tyler crooks his fingers just so, and Phil's shuddering and coming in his mouth. Tyler leans his head against Phil's hip and just breathes for a minute.

"Bozie," Phil says finally, out of breath and sounding wrecked. "C'mere." Tyler drags himself up onto the mattress. Mark's already there, stretched out to one side, and Phil pushes at Tyler until he flops down bonelessly between the two of them. "Holy shit," Phil says, kissing him soundly.

"That was intense," Mark says from Tyler's other side, trailing fingers down his ribs. "You guys sure know how to get it done."

Tyler huffs out a laugh at that. "We're professionals," he says. Phil giggles at that, burying his face against Tyler's shoulder.

"I can tell," Mark says, sounding amused.

Tyler reaches up until his fingers graze the headboard, stretching out his back. He's going to be sore tomorrow, hopefully pleasantly so. Right now he just feels warm all over, satisfied twice over. He brings his arms back down and turns to kiss Mark, taking his time with it. "Thanks," Tyler says, tracing Mark's jaw with one finger. It really is uncanny, even up close, how much he looks like Phil.

"Thank _you_ ," Mark says, and it's clear he means it.

From Tyler's other side, Phil snorts. "You Canadians," he teases, curling up to drape an arm across Tyler's stomach and wrap a hand around Mark's hip. "Sleep now," he says, pulling the comforter up with his toes. Tyler has no argument for that, so he snuggles in, Phil and Mark bracketing him, warm and worn out and still just a bit tipsy.

He wakes to the mattress bouncing as Phil climbs back into bed. "Just showing Mark out," he murmurs. His hands and face are cold, and Tyler makes a noise of complaint and twitches back. "Sorry," Phil says, not sorry in the slightest. "I took Stella out so she'd let us sleep in."

"Okay," Tyler grumbles, letting Phil wrap around him. He wants to go back to sleep before his hangover realizes that he's awake, but Phil's cold and now the bed's cold, and he's not going to be able to fall asleep until they warm back up again. "Didja get his number?" he mumbles, trying to maneuver himself to keep Phil's cold-ass hands away from him.

Phil laughs quietly, pressing a kiss to Tyler's temple. "You liked that, huh?"

Tyler nods, then cracks one eye open, suddenly anxious. "Did you?"

"Yeah," Phil says, kissing him again. "Don't know that I want to do it all the time, but it was definitely fun."

"Yeah," Tyler says, relieved. "Yeah, it was."

Phil tucks Tyler's face under his chin, one warming hand rubbing up and down his spine. It's nice. Bozie's safe, warm and getting warmer, floating on the familiar sensation of being cuddled by Phil when Phil murmurs in his ear. "Now we just need to find somebody who looks like you."

**Author's Note:**

> This is all thanks to auctorial asking for Phil Kessel fucking Phil Kessel and Phil Kessel. I couldn't quite fit _three_ Phil Kessels into it.... this time. Maybe next time.


End file.
